


How could this happen to me?

by carlgrimeschildsoldier



Series: my baby shot me down [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Intrusive Thoughts, Panic Attack, Sad Carl Grimes, Suicidal Thoughts, descriptions of vomit, michonne comforts carl through the panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:10:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlgrimeschildsoldier/pseuds/carlgrimeschildsoldier
Summary: what would happen if carl shot his dad in s4e9?





	

**Author's Note:**

> so I chose another random song I like as the title sorry about that lol, also sorry I haven't uploaded in a while I couldn't be bothered to write so I didn't but I'm writing again now so yeah.

They sat in silence until it started to get dark, just watching the new group trying to see if anything was happening all they could see from this point Is people going in and out of the big building and some people eating in the distance.

“Do you want some? I found this in a house back that way” michonne says offering a tube of crazy cheese to Carl

“Nah, not hungry”

“When did you last eat?”

“Hm? Oh erm… Yesterday?” it comes off more as a question than a statement damn it he wanted to lie so she wouldn't be concerned.

“You need to eat Carl”

“I know I know just… It makes me feel sick even thinking about it”

Instead of answering that she's searching through the small bag of food they have and he sighs knowing she will make him eat.

“Here, eat this,” she says handing over the cereal that was left over from The House.

He grabs the box getting a small handful of the cereal in his hand to eat it. His stomach is churning and he can already feel bile rising but he forces it down and picks up on of the pieces of cereal holding it up to his mouth.

“Go on, eat” michonne gently instructs so he does quickly swallowing it “I want you to eat that handful OK? That's all, please Carl”

He slowly eats the handful each piece of cereal making him feel even sicker finally after what feels like hours he's finished the handful.

“Thank you,” michonne says gently rubbing his back so he just leans into her needing the comfort right now.

“I don't know why I can't eat” he mumbles his forehead resting on her shoulder

“No, nor do I,” she says gently placing a kiss on the top of his head.

They hear something behind them and both quickly whip out their weapons.

“Jus’ me sorry” days says holding his hands up.

“Hey, Daryl, find anything?” Carl asks

“No, I couldn't see nothing. seems you found something though huh, good to see ya michonne”

“You too Daryl,” she says as she brings him into a hug

“I think we should sneak in tomorrow,” Carl says as they break off the hug

“Sure”

“We should sleep, if we take it in turns we can sleep here” michonne stated

“I'll be on watch first then,” Carl said already sitting with his back to the fence and gun at the ready

“Here use this then,” Daryl says handing Carl a knife

“Thanks,” Carl said as michonne and Daryl tried to get comfortable, with no fire, blankets or anything to help them this was a challenge but all of them were used to this now, they were lucky it was a relatively warm night.

Hours passed as Carl kept a vigilant watch, knife at the ready if anyone or anything was to pass by. He planned to let them both sleep as long as possible, even though he was exhausted he knew he'd have more nightmares and would only feel more tired after waking up, he didn't really see the point of trying to sleep.

He remembers when he was little, about 5 or 6, and he'd always, every night, without a doubt, say he didn't want to go to bed, that he wasn't tired, so his mom would carry him to his room, lie down with him and sing.

_“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are_ gray _”_

And always without doubt by the word gray, he was asleep. He wishes that his mom could still sing to him. That she would come stroke his hair and kiss his head but monsters don't deserve that. Monsters take all that for granted. Monsters kill everything they love, and he's nothing more than a monster.

Still, he wishes he could still have that, he'd give anything to have that back, just like he'd give anything to have his dad back. Or anything just for the memories to be back properly, instead of disjointed. He has a lot of memories but none of them are really clear anymore, they are more like the impression of a memory, like watching something through a camera. He doesn't deserve the memories. He killed them why would he get to keep the good after that?

_“You're a monster, you killed your parents, you got Judith killed too”_ the voice in the back of his head hissed at him

“Shut up” he whispered angrily

_“You should be dead, not them. Why do you get to live? Why do you survive? You don't deserve too, you're just a monster, you just get people killed. You're weak, useless, a burden”_

Carl can feel his chest getting tighter, his breathing is too quick

_“If you hadn't wanted to be a soldier and had been with Judith she’d be alive, if you had been smarter you would have saved your_ mom _, your dad”_

He can't breathe, every breath is too quick, he doesn't know how to stop this, maybe he's dying it feels like it.

“D….Daryl” he managed to quietly say hoping it woke one of them up, he didn't care who.

“Carl? Are you OK?” michonne asked waking up

“Can't breathe”

“OK, OK this is called a panic attack OK Carl? Just copy my breathing in and out, in and out”

He forces himself to focus on what she is saying trying to copy her, he manages to copy her barely but it's better than before at least.

“That's it keep breathing like that,” she says gently moving his hair from his face.

“Thank you,” he says shakily his breathing still slightly erratic.

She just gently strokes his arm in response.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I'm OK now”

“Not what I asked”

“I know but… I just don't want to talk about it”

“That's fine, I'll take watch now, you get some sleep alright?”

He's too exhausted to argue with her about how sleep, for him, is pointless now so he just lies down his head on her lap whilst she continues stroking his arm.

“Thank you” he feels it needs repeating.

“As I said before anytime”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if that was a bad description of a panic attack, I have had them before but I'm not good at describing them so sorry. I hope you like this series I know I'm a bad writer but i hope some of you like it at least.


End file.
